


Biggest Fucking Douchebag Assholes in the Galaxy

by Sweetloot



Series: RVB Pages [13]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Kind of a fic, M/M, headcanon talk, if you squint maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetloot/pseuds/Sweetloot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>These assholes have “died” so many times it’s ridiculous.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biggest Fucking Douchebag Assholes in the Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to something [Meg said](http://megneato.tumblr.com/post/94493038777/im-going-to-be-brutally-honest-if-felix-and-or). Decided to post it over here because why not.
> 
> (The title comes from Meg's post. Thanks, Meg.)

These assholes have “died” so many times it’s ridiculous. They know what they’re doing, they have plans, and back up plans, and back up plans for the back up plans. They know that things do go wrong, but they’ll get as much as they can (money, intelligence, tech, etc.) before everything goes to shit.

Felix has almost lost track of how many aliases he’s had. Maybe he’ll be Garfield this time, no, Tom. He probably wouldn't recognize his birth name if someone screamed it. Felix has no problems shedding an old identity. He loves the thrill of becoming a new person, of fooling idealistic saps with his “heart of gold”.

Locus isn't quite so eager, only because he _hates_ when one of his carefully constructed plans falls apart. That, and he hates having to get new armor, already used to the preciseness of his body movements in that particular set. He’ll fume quietly until Felix is sick of his silent bitching and throws him a new set of armor (better than the last set, he assures) and Locus efficiently strips and gets into the new set because as much as he hates it, he’s a professional. His body is a weapon and he will become his armor, just like he always does.

These two are _cockroaches_. They have been shot, stabbed, blown up, ran over, and once had a nuc fired at them _but they always survive_. Sure, they get hurt, sometimes nearly die, maybe lose a limb (Locus has an artificial leg, Felix forever complains that he wishes Locus had lost his arm instead so he could make “need a hand” jokes. Locus steps on Felix’s bare foot with his metal one.) 

They always make sure to have scapegoats, bodies in their armor that get “shot down” while they were making their escape in a shuttle, getting destroyed in a ball of fire so intense that all that remains is the chard remnants of “their” bodies, before the actual mercenaries leave the planet, going to set up on some other forgotten world, ready to start the process again as the “biggest fucking douchebag assholes in the galaxy.”


End file.
